


every day is exactly the same

by regicides



Series: s'apprivoiser [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Bodysharing, Guilt, M/M, kamui fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-15 21:59:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11240100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/regicides/pseuds/regicides
Summary: This body is a patchwork of guilt, it knows.It knows, but it can not differentiate pain and pleasure and this space offers no distinction.//OR: vague kamui space fic wherein obito and kakashi find themselves sharing a body and they reflect on their shared guilt surrounding rin's death in the least healthy way possible (ie: thinly veiled metaphors for masturbation).





	every day is exactly the same

At first neither of them realize that everything around them is silence. 

(Not _silent_ – silence. This is an empty space and they do not hear their hearts beat nor their breath puff nor their blood rush within them, up to their ears.)

In this reality Rin is still gone. 

_         limp in his arms, bloodied and pliant and God, that terrible hole in her chest. See right through it, I could see right through it  _

Obito grinds his teeth, swallows hard. He opens his eye and knows that the grey of the room is but a dulled equivalence of the red in which he stood when he saw her die 

_         tingling in his fingers still, hand like a blade;  immediate cauterization. That terrible hole in her chest, go right through it, my hand goes right through it  _

Kakashi grinds his teeth, swallows hard. He opens his eye and knows that the grey of this room that isn’t a room is but a space for him to forgo his atonement.

 //

This space is what exists  – is what is made  – when two beings are forced to subsist without the other yet have never once forgotten who detains the eye that is pair to theirs. 

//

When Obito looks out in front of him he does not see Kakashi. He only sees grey and grey and grey and grey and in the back of his mind  – never as far back as he thinks  –  red and gore and a phantom weight in his arms the size of a young girl.

Kakashi is not a phantom weight in his arms. Nor an ever fading memory.

_         aches. hurts. Sometimes I forget her smile. Sometimes I forget the sound of her laugh, the crinkle of her eyes _

Kakashi is there. Tangible. Not in his arms, cradled, but rather with him, within him  – is looking at him from inside of these very memories that he hammers into the forefront of his mind time and time and time again. Kakashi is there. 

         _Obito has his hand through her chest, fingers sparking still with the power of it all_

_         Kakashi is holding her, gore and guts up to his ankles _

A hand is lifted, brought up in front of scrutinizing eyes. In this space this hand has no past, no future. 

The body it is attached to is fragmented, scarred, painfully reconstructed  –   inhuman, some say. 

The body is lithe, muscular, lined with a million tiny, mostly imperceptible scars leading up to a singular cut slicing through eyebrow and eyelid. 

        “In this space our fates have converged.” 

No one has spoken out loud. The plural body’s lips have not moved to form a single syllable  – and yet: these words echo and bounce off of the grey that constitutes the silence.

The hand trails down the merged body, naturally starting from where they are joined in a single vision, halting at lips somehow simultaneously felt through fabric and slightly upturned with rough scars. The hand lingers  – not because it is a tender gesture but as if it cannot comprehend its own existence. The touch is neither cold nor warm, pleasant nor grating: it is simply a cartograph of monstrosity, trying to concord a fate shared by a pair of eyes divided up long ago. 

Fate and body are one and the same in this space that doesn’t dare call itself as such. Two eyes were awakened that day; two eyes saw and recorded rupture. Here, in this place two visions overlap and bleed one into the other. 

The hand slinks lower, minutely taking inventory: a sinewy neck  –  clothed. A clavicule so white it cannot possibly be human. A broad chest. A chasm the size of a heart 

         _the size of a hand._

Kakashi groans low in his throat and there is no one there to hear it. 

Obito groans and it’s Kakashi’s voice that is ripped from the depths of him. 

        “You did this.”

The silence speaks again. It is a continuous rumble,

_         you did this you did this you did this you did this you did this  _

it feels like there are fingers going straight through his fucking chest and there are. it feels like being alive it feels like dying it feels like all that he’s ever felt but he’s not alone goddammit he’s not alone how could he ever have been alone when they are seeing the same thing. they are seeing. the same thing

It hurts. And then suddenly it doesn’t.

_         feels like something else. _

Like the lightning bypassed his heart and trailed down, all the way down, his spine. Vertebra by vertebra. Like a needle weaving its way in and out and in and out through his bones. Like he should be dead but here he is and God, it feels so much like being alive

        “You never died, Obito”

Who is speaking? The silence still lays heavy, draped over the body that this space has spat out, angry creation of a necessary union.

        “And have you lived since, Kakashi?”

There is a certain cruel pleasure to be found in this place. 

The spark coursing through this body is not unlike the one that killed Rin. It lodges itself in his stomach and coils, expanding. 

His entire body is alive with it, lit up with what feels just like this instrument of death   –   lightning, crackling. Did she feel this good when she died? When  _ we _ killed her? 

_         weren’t good enough weren’t quick enough weren’t, _

The heat is becoming unbearable, it’s burning up his insides. 

_         aches. hurts _

It feels like it’s going to tear him apart but this body knows better than that: what is already broken cannot be moreso severed. No, this is a contained phenomenon. 

This body is a patchwork of guilt, it knows. 

It knows, but it can not differentiate pain and pleasure and this space offers no distinction.

_         we did this we did this we did this we did this we did this  _

When the lightning culminates inside of this body  –  when it resonates through this chest and when it bursts white and hot under his eyelids, when it tears through the silence, though that same silence immediately swallows it up and claims it  –  it feels so good. Like a confirmation, like everything is in its right place and _ he is whole, he’s never felt so whole.  _

//

Kakashi will remember this. With one eye cracked open and swirling with red he will still feel that lightning crackling inside of this body. 

It leaves him feeling hollow. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> uhhhhhh HEYA i hope this made sense ? 
> 
> if you think it made sense and you even liked it maybe even just a lil feel free to hit that mf kudos button, or even leave a comment? it would make my day. my week? my month


End file.
